第 7 页

is so plentiful that everyone can get his preference- cigarets,

cigars, or chews. Whoever is telling the story is right there, in

it; this is what is called first person narration. But the narrator

(we soon find out that he's 19 years old and his name is Paul

Baumer) makes clear that the whole situation is incredible:- "We

have not had such luck as this for a long time."

Where did the windfall come from? Paul says, "We have only a

miscalculation to thank for it." It turns out that the quartermaster

sent, and the cook prepared, food for the full Second Company- 150

men. But 70 were killed at the end of a quiet two-week mission when

the English suddenly opened up with high-explosive field guns.

Before we can stop to think about Paul's dismissing all those deaths

as a miscalculation, he backs up to tell the whole story of how they

nearly had to riot to get all that food and tobacco. The cook, it

seems, didn't care about the count; he just didn't want to give any

man more than a single share. In the course of retelling how their

noise brought the company commander, who finally ordered the cook to

serve everything, Paul introduces all his friends.

They're an assorted lot: first, three of his classmates from school-

Muller, the bookworm, Albert Kropp, the sharp thinker, and bearded

Leer who likes officers' brothels. Then there are three other

19-year-olds: the skinny locksmith Tjaden, the farmer Detering, and

the peat-digger Haie Westhus. Finally he names an older soldier- the

group's shrewd, 40-year-old leader, a man with a remarkable nose for

food and soft jobs, Stanislaus Katczinsky.

-

---------------------------------------------------------------------

NOTE: From their names we see that these major characters are

German, but it really doesn't matter. They could just as well be

French or English, so far as their experiences are concerned.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

-

At this point we don't really know if Paul, the narrator, is as cold

and unfeeling as he appears. He and his friends seem to care much more

about food than about the lives of their companions. Is Remarque

indirectly telling us that war reduces people to animals? Or are the

men just being realistic? We'll have to wait and see.

The day continues to be "wonderfully good," says Paul, because their

mail catches up with them. But one letter angers them. It's from their

schoolmaster, Kantorek, who pumped them all so full of the glory of

fighting for their country that they marched down to the district

commandant together and enlisted. The only one who had to be persuaded

was homely Josef Behm, and he's dead already- the first of their class

to fall. Paul doesn't blame Kantorek personally for Behm's death,

but he does blame the "thousands of Kantoreks" who were so sure

their view of the coming war was the right one. We were only 18, he

says; we trusted our teachers and our parents to guide us, and "they

let us down so badly." He seems to be saying that the war has cut them

adrift from a meaningful life, with no new values to replace the old

ones. All the young soldiers know for sure is that it's good to have a

full belly or a good smoke.

The friends go over to visit Franz Kemmerich, a classmate who is

dying after a leg amputation. Muller turns out to be totally crude and

tactless. Kemmerich is dying, and Muller rattles on about

Kemmerich's stolen watch and just who will get Kemmerich's fine

English leather boots. Paul, on the other hand, recalls Kemmerich's

mother, crying and begging Paul to look after Franz as they left for

the front. To Paul, Kemmerich still looks like a child accidentally

poured into a military uniform. Perhaps war hasn't blunted his

sensitivity yet, but Muller's crudeness shocks us.

As they leave the dressing station, it is obvious that Kropp, like

Paul, is still brimful of feelings. Erupting into anger, he hurls

his cigaret to the ground and mutters, "Damned swine!" He is

thinking of the leaders who sent them into battle and of people like

Kantorek calling waifs like Kemmerich "Iron Youth." "Youth!" thinks

Paul. "That is long ago. We are old folk."

-

---------------------------------------------------------------------

NOTE: THE ROMANTIC VIEW OF WAR From history we know that the

Kantoreks passionately believed the ideals they taught their

children and students. World War I broke out in what seems to us a

largely innocent world, a world that still associated warfare with

glorious cavalry charges and the noble pursuit of heroic ideals.

Everyone- Allies and Central Powers alike- expected a quick, clean war

with a glorious aftermath. Most Europeans, not just Germans, saw war

as the adventure of a lifetime. The popular English poet Rupert Brooke

thanked God in his poem "1914" for waking "us from sleeping" and

providing the opportunity to do something new and clean in "a world

grown old and cold and weary." Americans were no different, though

Stephen Crane's Civil War novel The Red Badge of Courage- showing

war in all its ugliness- had been around for 20 years. Listen to the

lighthearted tone of patriotic World War I songs by George M. Cohan.

Later in the war and afterwards, poets and novelists (including

Remarque) dispelled the myth. The English poet Siegfried Sassoon wrote

about a battlefield, "I am staring at a sunlit picture of hell."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER_2

CHAPTER 2

-

We get to know Paul better in the second chapter. It is the next day

and he is still thinking about his parents and about Kantorek. He

recalls school life, hobbies, poetry writing, and observes, "of this

nothing remains." The older men have wives and jobs to return to;

the war is just an interruption for them. But the "Iron Youth" had not

yet taken root: "The war swept us away" and they don't know how it

will end. "We know only that in some strange and melancholy way we

have become a waste land." He goes on to defend Muller's preoccupation

with Kemmerich's boots- Muller is just being practical, he says. After

all, Kemmerich has no further use for them. Paul claims that Muller

would go barefoot over barbed wire rather than plot to get the boots

if Kemmerich could use them. But as things are, Muller, who does

need them, is much more entitled to them than some thieving hospital

orderly.

-

---------------------------------------------------------------------

NOTE: Let's pause a moment. Why is Paul working so hard to excuse

Muller? Does he protest so much because there's a bit of Muller in

himself? He certainly has an intellectual grasp of the situation and

probably wrote good essays in school. Look at the phrases he can

produce: "[W]e have become a waste land." Does he secretly wish he

could translate his ideas into action as bluntly as Muller?

Another question: Remember how Remarque said in his opening note

that his book was not going to be an accusation? Is it or isn't it? An

author usually speaks through his main characters- at this point,

Paul. Paul says he doesn't blame the Kantoreks. Judging from all you

already know of Paul, what do you think? Does he truly know his own

feelings? Or do you think some bitterness he doesn't even recognize

might underlie his words?

---------------------------------------------------------------------

-

A definite note of bitterness creeps into Paul's next thoughts,

but there's a strong trace of nostalgia, too. Now that he has

experienced front-line fighting, boot camp, rough as it was, almost

seems like the good old days! He recalls how quickly you learned

that in the army, all the learning from Plato to Goethe is less

important than knowing how to spring to attention or keep your buttons

polished. He particularly reviews the cruel treatment he and his

friends endured at the hands of the sadistic Corporal Himmelstoss, a

former mailman. Under his orders Paul once scrubbed the corporals'

dining room with a toothbrush, and another morning he remade the man's

bed 14 times! Often the whole group ended drills covered with mud,

or stood at attention for long sessions, without gloves, in freezing

weather. Every rotten job in the camp came their way, but

Himmelstoss never broke them. Eventually, under Kropp's instigation,

they developed the tactic of obeying Himmelstoss's orders so slowly

that even he gained a certain respect for them and eased up on them

a fraction. How insane such training was, Paul thinks, but you can

almost see him grin as he adds, how well it worked! It made them hard,

suspicious, bitter, and tough- not so great for civilian life, but

perfect preparation for the trenches! Such discipline, Paul concludes,

was exactly what they needed as recruits.

Paul continues to spend his day quietly. He goes alone to visit

Kemmerich and says all the soothing things people say about a bright

future when they know very well that someone is dying. But Kemmerich

knows. He asks Paul to give his boots to Muller. For an hour Paul

watches as his friend cries silently. He cannot get an orderly to help

when death sounds begin to gurgle in Kemmerich's throat. Instead the

orderly urges him to hurry up and clear out Kemmerich's things; he

needs the bed. Really, the orderly has acted no worse than the whole

company yesterday, clamoring for the food their dead companions

couldn't eat. And the orderly at least wants the bed for another

man. But this time it hits Paul. He can't be indifferent or

uncaring. He's had time to see what a young boy his friend still is;

he's had time to rage at the senseless brutality that sends boys out

to be killed for nothing. He gulps and leaves the huts as the

orderlies haul Kemmerich onto a waterproof sheet. Paul's feet seem

to push him forward and he finds himself feeling a strength rising

up from the earth into his body. He is alive and he is glad! "The

night lives, I live." He takes the boots to Muller, who immediately

tries them on. They fit well.

-

---------------------------------------------------------------------

NOTE: IMAGERY AND SYMBOLISM As Paul leaves the dressing station,

his mind fills with thoughts of girls, flowery meadows, white

clouds. Watch for the return of such images whenever Paul is

overcome by the brutality and senselessness of the carnage- the

butchery- of battle.

Keep an eye, too, on Kemmerich's boots. He was not the first

owner. In Chapter 1 the boots were described as "airman's boots.

They are fine English boots of soft, yellow leather which reach to the

knee and lace up all the way." It doesn't take too much imagination,

considering the state of aviation in 1916, to figure out how Kemmerich

got the boots. Assuming the English airman is dead, the boots have now

gone to their third owner- and fit him, too. Are all soldiers

interchangeable, whatever side they are on? And how many owners will

the boots outlast?

---------------------------------------------------------------------

CHAPTER_3

CHAPTER 3

-